Settler words&music in S'ólh Téméxw, (leanpub.com/upsun) living where privilege meets precarity in MST country. she/her/they———– Novels: Midnite Moving Co., Upsun; Sweep Off Those Waves coming soon, Hair Sinister after that. —Restore All Indigenous Lands!
If you’re feeling low.
Unfortunately Peggy’s biscotti won’t bake ’emselves. I have other stuff to bake as well.
It’s a Wittgenstein kinda day: (and here’s me thinking this was Nietzsche
“Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent”
Fortunately I have lots of friends and family to talk to… I’m low, but I’m not lonely.
Norm Macdonald is dead and the only people I can see who are mourning him are men on Reddit…. quite interesting. Waiting for a woman celebrity OTHER THAN SARAH SILVERMAN who really is a Sspecial cKase to praise him.
When Robin Williams and George Carlin died there was an incredible outpouring from a huge range of people and with Norm… just men. And Sarah Silverman. Makes ya think, don’t it?
I have started taking the medications. I’m not experiencing side effects so far, bar being a little off my feed. The real whoopsiedoodle will be the ADD meds, but I’m going to wait a while to start those.
Ken Burns made a documentary about ‘the greatest athlete of the 20th c’ – Mohammad Ali. That’s funny, because by many objective measures the greatest athlete of the 20th C was Babe Didrikson, and she sewed her own fucking clothes while she was winning.
With thanks for the many simple pleasures of MST Country, with thanks to the people and the stories that make this place, for the sky, land and water, for all the beautiful creatures herein. It is a good day.
Jeff has (like Thorkel) stood in the ‘undeviating stream of my complaints’ as I whined about my health (okay the rumours about brain damage are true! what it is!) and survived!
Also I called Dave and wordsaladed all over his uncomplaining ear. He’s got to haul himself off to a doctor as well, shortly, and he’s looking forward to it about as much as I did. I have to go into the clinic 14 days hence.
Today I am going to wander down to the drugstore and find out what manner of side effect lies in wait for me there. DO NOT WANT a YEAR OF NAUSEA.
Tomorrow I’m going to the Junction to help Katie set up the baby room and nag her dad about how old he got, since he’ll be 72 tomorrow. Last time I was there we had a talk about the things that could have killed him, like the time he hit a wall on his motorcycle at 50 miles an hour, then (limping four ways from Sunday) rode what was left of it to Ron M.’s place in London and crashed on his couch. Shook it off and beat most of the dings out of it the next day. The shit we get up to when we’re young! and then after we’ve survived it we wake up in a cold sweat decades later going HOLY SHIZZBALLS OF RECKONING. I still get a chill when I think about the plane crash. Surviving stuff like that should make you a better person, but as best I recollect the only thing that came out of it was that we should have wills, although we didn’t actually DO anything about it until years later.
I’m up to 2700 words on the haunted object story and I’m loving the dialog, it’s most hilarious and effective (and yes I do say so myself, dialogue is one of my writing skillsets).
I now veer wildly off into Schadenfreude land. He was a cruel and evil and anti-science man, and now he’s fondling Satan’s dick in hell, and GOOD. For when the link disappears:
(Ed Mazza, Yahoo News, Monday September 13 2021)
Bob Enyart, a notoriously homophobic right-wing radio host who refused to get vaccinated against the coronavirus, has died of COVID-19.
The death was announced on Facebook.
“It comes with an extremely heavy heart that my close friend and co-host of Real Science Radio has lost his battle with COVID,” wrote Fred Williams, co-host of the ironically named show, which routinely pushed anti-science talking points, including creationism.
Enyart was 62, according to Newsweek.
My age. LOL Fred do tell me your vaxx status
after all, repulsigans, you have taught me that the cruelty is the message as “Cops” returns to Fox Media
later that morning – Mike called and told me about the Reddit Herman Cain award and it’s all for vile people who said covid was a hoax and then died of it so I was able to tell Mike I already had an award recipient on my blog this morning DOUBLE LOL
It’s worse this morning… both the rib and the dry cough. There is no way I’d be going to either Bowen or Mike’s in my current state. Time for a roasting hot shower and ta cough up a lung. When that’s not happening there’s a squeaky wheeze in there.
So if I’m watching comfort food TV, eating comfort food, doing laundry and writing fanfic who can be surprised. Posted another 2500 word story, 150 hits already so far, but fewer kudos. It isn’t funny, the way most of my stuff is, so maybe that has something to do with the ratio.
Next story up will probably be one of those cuddly funny stories; I just had to get the fix-it and parallel universe little stories out of my system first.
SHNERK oh make the mucus stop ROY KENT GRUNT
My ribs are mad at me but I got in a solid half hour (combined) on all four instruments including singing, and no coughing, so go me.
We let the folks know we’re not going to Bowen. Shit’s weird we all agree.
A B.C. Naturopath is never a way to start a sentence that will end well. Eventually this link will rot and die, so let me extract the first two paragraphs so you can have an expression of wide eyed revulsion cross your face too:
A B.C. naturopath who claims he can treat autism with fecal transplants at a clinic in Mexico has been barred from producing pills or enemas made from human feces while he’s under investigation by several agencies.
The College of Naturopathic Physicians of B.C. says it has taken “extraordinary action” against Jason Klop in response to a complaint from a whistle-blowing former employee, who alleges that he manufactured these products in a “household lab” in B.C. without standard procedures or quality control.
I’m still working through the throes of coming out of a twitter addiction but the results over the past two weeks are:
1 I’m no longer subject to strangers hitting me up for cash
2 I’m no longer getting live feed of people being killed by ‘their’ governments, drowning in floods, being shot by police, wildfires and other up to the minute disasters
3 I’m posting more to my own blog
4 My mental health has improved marginally – I feel less desperate and less oppressed by the state of the world
5 I’m writing more
6. I miss Pebble in the Sky and so many other people on twitter, I want to hear their voices in my head, I miss them so much. But I’ve been telling people on twitter for years how to get hold of me, so if they don’t, they’re busy, and that’s okay, or they didn’t make a note, and that’s okay too. I miss the funny ones, the writing ones, the dead serious about the working class ones, the technoweenie anarchists and the Ottawa grannies and the filkers and the local journos.
speaking of writing more, out of the 1500 words I sent to my mOm the other day, she unerringly picked out the single sentence of dialogue that encapsulated it and I just want to say publicly that mOm can claim to be suffering from mental deficits and I’m going to repeat what the cognitive scientists say; old people get to the same place as young people when given time for the tasks they must solve…. and when not subject to be hassled while they’re thinking.
I am old too, you know. I’ll get there eventually. And in the meantime I’ll quit telling her to respond fast, I’m stepping on my own cloak there.
I was coughing too hard to even greet Jeff as he walked by my door. I’ve had a good, strong, restorative and hydrating cuppa and now I’m 1500 words into a destiel fic that kinda swooped in on me.
This is a chest cold. In time of plague one worries, but this is merely one of life’s annoyances not a two in a hundred chance of dying. (1.8 but who’s counting really)
LATER AROUND 9 AM oh look, something two blocks from my house caught fire and the not for profit food insecurity charity Quest got extensive smoke damage. The innocent suffer and the hookah lounge burns down.
Today is the first day of me getting ptosis in my left eye. It’s always been in my right eye before; I’m miffed at the encroachment. It’s now time to stop looking at screens (I’m assuming that’s the cause) and nap because even if sleep doesn’t make things better it sure makes things go away (I don’t remember my dreams, so I carry things into my sleep and don’t carry them out.)
However temporarily.
My troubles await my awakening.
Buster wants me to throw some more treats now so I’ll do that and then nap. Oh yeah, I left something out of the fridge. I’m sort of wandering around in a diminished capacity which probably has something to do with that good hard slug of coff sirp.
Oh great visual disturbances time to close the laptop.
so it’s a little after midnight and I woke up rather congested. My sinuses are either clogged or producing simply miraculous quantities of runny goo and sitting up is a better option for now so that’s what I’m doing. All but one of the ribs seems to have gone back into place, so I’m experiencing much less discomfort in my ribs, but I still can’t bend over or torque my spine at all. I’ve figured out how to roll over without too much discomfort. Buster wanted my attention so I gave him some, (hey Buster don’t forget to check for treats on top of the fridge haw haw) but now I’m thinking of taking some more cough medicine (this stuff works great) and trying to catch another three or four hours before the day starts…
I am producing a teaspoon of respiratory tract mucus about every 3 – 5 minutes. My ribs still hurt, but I can cough without injuring myself further so that’s okay. My nose is running like a tap but I feel much better today than yesterday, that’s for sure, and I got some more sleep between 4 am and 8:30 am so I’m better rested. I have the right kind of cough medicine and I’m pushing fluids as fast as I can. Despite it all I don’t feel too bad. If this is a cold I AM SO SORRY I TOOK IT INTO YOUR HOUSE MOMMA.
We went to the Butterfly House and the Country Bee House yesterday. At the Butterfly House Little E the parrot was three deep in Taiwanese uni students, as far as I could tell, so I didn’t get to love on him at all, but I had the great joy of telling a little girl that a tortoise had ‘broken out’ of the tortoise pen, and otherwise it was much as it usually is, and Alex enjoyed it. Alex enjoyed me imitating the goats and sheep at the Country Bee and we talked a bit about the animals and what they were eating.
Slept until about two, woke up not able to breathe, got up and brushed my teeth and drank some water and forced myself to lie down. Fought with sleep for about an hour I guess and then finally found a comfy enough position to go back to sleep.
My hand is much better today, but the ribs are sore and tight and I can neither bend nor twist, and there’s a hot patch, so I’m thinking I need to get a chest xray at the very least, which I’ll arrange when I get back.
my left wrist and ribs under my left breast still hurt quite a bit but I’ve established that I can at least nap… rolling over takes about 30 seconds and is accompanied by sounds of me hissing like a snake
I was thinking of making one last stab at climbing Pkols tomorrow or the day after but I know I won’t be able to and I’m just disappointed in myself turning my ankle on the paved part of the pathway…. My foot slipped into the divot right next to the paved part and then I flung myself around so I wouldn’t go down the embankment and crushed my left hand under me. Paul was with me. I had the wind knocked out of me for about a minute and then slowly stood up with Paul’s help – a kindly stranger with a dog rushed to check on me which felt very comforting under the circumstances. And no, I shouldn’t have driven afterwards now that I think of it, but I just couldn’t deal with getting out of the car to mail Tom’s letter so I stuck him in the passenger seat. I think my reasoning is kinda weird sometimes.
My mental health is poor and I’m sleeping a lot.
Forecast for Sunday is partly cloudy and 21 degrees at this point, which seems favourable for a picnic. So unless that changes, the famjam is ON for 4pm Sunday.
THIS FROM ALEX
WE ARE GO FOR FAMILY PICNIC ON THE BEACH ON SUNDAY
I’ve got a *tiny* red spot/bruise in the crook of my left arm. The phlebotomist was very good. I always donate on the left. It felt weird the other day to have a nurse check me for track marks. I don’t feel off but I’m not 100 percent perky again yet – I had another very solid and reborative (*not* rebarbative lol) sleep. Yesterday I ran two loads of laundry and made tuna salad for a late lunch (ingredients, tuna, real mayo, capers, scallions and artichokes all chopped into the tuna, over iceberg lettuce salad and I’ll thank you very much to nod when I tell you it was good) and watched a fair amount of TV – two episodes of Elementary, can you believe we started a rewatch again so soon after the end of the last rewatch? We did a shop in the morning and bought no chicken, pork or beef. I watered the dogwood and the cedar hedge. Kim the Landlord had the cedar hedge put in and she’s attached to it and I try to help keep it healthy.
Now I know I’ve been mentioning mascarpone cheese a lot, because we’ve been eating it every week. I got it for myself as an eating treat for the first time about six months ago and now it gets used for any number of wild purposes, like being added to Indian food to take the heat down or being used as dip for crackers. My current favourite treatment for it is to chop pecans and dried apricots into it and add home made chocolate syrup and whomp it up and eat it like a parfait, but mostly I just put it on bagels, a truly lovely application, especially for a sweeter bagel like a blueberry bagel. I have converted Jeff into a mascarpone fan. The other day he referred to it as ‘massacre pony’ cheese and I thought I was going to die laughing, because it sounds exactly like the kind of mishearing I applied to many things when I was a kid.
I have learned – directly from Katie – that she anticipates the birth of a boy child. The happy couple is fine either way. “I’ll raise strong men and get awesome daughters in law” she said and I laughed. I don’t have facebook or I would have known a couple of days ago. She calls me on the land line, all apologetic, because I don’t have a cell phone or she’d have texted me. Isn’t modern parenting wild?
Now I got myself all wound up over mascarpone cheese, so I toasted a blueberry bagel, and one half of it is on Jeff’s desk for when he comes back from looking for something downstairs and the other half is being consumed with tea, Yorkshire Gold, hot, by yours truly.
Did I ever tell you guys that for months and months I could hear what sounded like somebody tunnelling under the house, but it’s stopped? I don’t know what it was but it kept me awake LOTS and now it’s gone. Hopefully their ‘extra space for renters’ or ‘panic room’ or ‘torture chamber’ or ‘sex dungeon’ or ‘man cave’ is all finished now. Still I persist in wondering. I figured it couldn’t be real since Jeff couldn’t hear it. Maybe it was particular power tool oriented rats?
Still no envelope of suitable size and robustness for ontie Mary. I need to get up off my ass and go ‘into town’ (lol less than ten stops on the 123 bus more like) and get some.
Did I ever tell you guys that like most people who are on the spectrum and or have ADD I have tons of sensory issues around food and drink? because I grew up in a household where ‘suffer in silence’ was actually a family motto I’ve long since learned to power through the overwhelming majority of them (not painfully or ruining my day, just as a going to the dentist kind of powering through it), but one thing that has stuck with me since m early teens is that tea is supposed to be as hot as you can make it and to be drunk just shy of scalding; I sometimes reheat tea five times if I keep forgetting to drink it when it’s the right temperature…. the spectrum makes me need it a certain way, the ADD prevents it, it’s like there’s two witless mofos trying to control my sensorium all day. Spectrum makes me want to be upstanding and meet my commitments or SHAME of GREAT SHAME will ensure; ADD says fuck ya, smokes weed and ends up hitting the twangy box in the guest room while Jeff flees to the safety of his EBM Dark Club Music on headphones.
leafhopper earrings from @kanakirisuzume1’s twitter feed
